Restaurateur becomes unwitting symbol of class conflict

By Joe Garofoli, San Francisco Chronicle
In a different era in San Francisco, Yaron Milgrom might be lauded for serving locally harvested fare at his four Mission District establishments.
Each contains the word “local” its name, intended as a nod to how the ingredients are procured and prepared.
But that word is now perceived as an insult by some.
“We became representative of something much larger than what we are,” the 33-year-old native New Yorker said in soft, measured sentences, as he sat inside Local Mission Eatery – his original location. “It became an easy shorthand for something large and important for this city and this neighborhood in particular."
The trouble started on Cesar Chavez Day in 2013 when longtime Mission resident Sandy Cuandra said she and five members of her family were refused service at Local’s Corner, a 28-seat Milgrom restaurant that was nearly empty at the time. In an e-mail to 50 friends and community leaders, plus Latino activist newspaper El Tecolote, she alleged discrimination.
“The owner is from New York City and he is a transplant, so to speak. And he’s called his establishment ‘Local’s Corner’ and he’s allegedly denied locals service," said Gabriela Sierra Alonso, the former editor in chief of El Tecolote, who broke the story.
Almost overnight, Milgrom’s establishments came to embody the city's class conflict, with money and monied people reaching neighborhoods where they were neither known nor wanted.
Milgrom was stunned at the reaction. He maintains it is Local's Corner policy to only seat parties of six outside — and there were no outside tables available. The staff invited Cuandra’s party to eat at Milgrom’s other restaurant a few blocks away.
But in a letter published by El Tecolote, Milgrom wrote he was “deeply sorry for Sandy’s experience that morning.” He went to Cuandra’s house and met with her family, as well as Erick Arguello, president of the Calle 24 merchants association, and Roberto Hernandez, a longtime respected neighborhood advocate.
“You need to understand that what they went through, it’s what we’ve all been going through here in the neighborhood,” Hernandez told Milgrom, according to El Tecolote. “You are welcome here, but we’ve been here — we have grown up here, we have seen evictions, and we have seen gentrification here.”
Reflecting on the meeting several months later, Milgrom said: “There were parts that were heated. We also laughed. And there was some genuine sharing."
Though it did little to soothe tensions.
In May, the San Francisco Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment staged a dinnertime “Local’s Walk of Shame” protest outside Local’s Corner. “This was a concrete example of the racism that people in the neighborhood were feeling everywhere,” said Noemi Sohn, an organizer with the alliance and Mission resident for 18 years.
Hours after the protest, a brick shattered the window of Local’s Corner. Vandals scrawled epithets outside.
“Die Yuppies.”
“Get Lost.”
“Keep the Mission Brown.”
This isn’t how Milgrom envisioned owning a restaurant. His mother was a rabbi, and
his family was raised on the values of civil rights and equality. Tall with a wispy beard and rimless glasses, Milgrom has the look of a doctoral candidate. (He was one, studying Jewish mysticism.)
With his wife, Miriam, and their 5-month-old son, Cruv, they left Manhattan in 2008 so she could complete her medical residency at San Francisco General Hospital. At first, they were attracted to the neighborhood for its proximity to General. Their rent-controlled two-bedroom apartment near 23rd Street was so close Milgrom would bring the baby to the hospital so Miriam could breast-feed.
But Milgrom soon fell in love with the “village feel of his neighborhood” — the shopkeepers, the families in the park, the diversity, the different cuisines.
As his interest in his studies flagged, Milgrom met chef Jake Des Voignes and opened
Local’s Eatery on 24th Street in 2010. Then came Local’s Corner, which focuses on seafood; Local Mission Market, a gourmet grocery; and Local Cellar, which stocks California-made wine and beer.
His family has grown almost as fast as his businesses. He and Miriam now have three
children, and Cruv attends a bilingual school. They still live in the same rent-controlled
apartment — it’s the only way they can afford the neighborhood, he said.
Milgrom has heard complaints from some neighbors that they can’t afford to eat at his restaurants. But when he opened Local Mission Eatery, he capped the price of sandwiches at $9, knowing the price of carne asada at classic Mission restaurant El Farolito was $9.50.
Still, he didn’t see many Latino customers.
“We weren’t getting cross appeal,” Milgrom acknowledged. “To make this a better business, we had to raise our prices.”
His cooks make a starting salary of $13 and dishwashers begin at $11, about 25 percent
above the city’s minimum wage. About a quarter of his staff is Latino, including the chef de cuisine at Local Mission Market. His critics say that most of his Latino staff are dishwashers.
Milgrom readily acknowledges that he “feels very privileged in my life. I have had opportunities that I understand are way beyond my efforts or will or grit that are because of my background and who I’ve come to know.
“We never could have opened a business in this neighborhood and made it if this weren’t a growth period in San Francisco and there wasn’t lots of development and changes and people weren’t getting excited about this neighborhood.”
In another time, his words might be praised for their self-deprecating grace. As it is,
they neatly summarize what a few of his neighbors most resent about him. Privilege.
Development. Change.
This summer, the vandalism stopped and business picked up. Through September, three of the Local's outposts did record business. The only exception: Local's Corner. The Chronicle lauded it as one of the Top 100 restaurants in the city two years in a row, but it still struggled. If Milgrom knew why, "I would have fixed it by now."
Ultimately, he couldn’t. On Nov. 29, Local’s Corner closed.
“Before ACCE and vandalism, we were not in good shape,” Milgrom wrote in a letter to supporters announcing the closure. “Certainly, neither helped. Though its impact was less financial than emotional. More than the sting, it was the cumulative wear.”